Pyromania
by MoodyBeatleGirl
Summary: A serial arsonist wreaks havoc in the South Bay area of LA County and Station 51 is caught in the middle of the chaos.
1. Chapter 1

_Preface: I expect people to hand me constructive criticism on this work because I know that it's not perfect, and I welcome any suggestions to help me improve my writing. However, please be respectful and helpful to me while reviewing. If you don't like something about it, please give me concrete details about why it doesn't work, and what I might do to make it work. Also it wouldn't hurt to give me concrete details about why something IS working. "It sucks" or "I like it" reviews don't help me in the least bit._

_Also, if you come across typos, PLEASE NOTIFY ME! I try really hard to catch them, but no one is perfect._

_And also, I try to do as much research as I can so my story has verisimilitude (thruthiness), but I am neither a doctor nor a paramedic, so if I say something stupid or wrong, please tell me in a nice way._

_Thanks!_

_This story could be considered AU, but I'll try my best to keep it in the bounds of the original work._

**CHAPTER ONE!**

**Carson, California**

**1975**

THE alarm sounded, reverberating off every single wall and startling the firemen out of their pre-lunchtime conversation.

"Station 51," the monotone voice of the County Fire dispatcher droned through the speaker. "Apartment Fire. 590 West 228th—cross street: Figueroa. Time out: 13:55."

The Captain was on the return call almost immediately, scribbling down the information on his pad as he responded to dispatch. "LA, Squad 51—KMG365." He quickly hung the radio back up and joined the rest of the firemen as they scrambled away from their ready plates and to the engine.

Johnny Gage was inwardly grateful for the call as he jogged over with the others. Anything to delay Chet Kelly's questionable cooking (and antics) for another hour or so. Looking back to his partner, Roy DeSoto, Johnny could see that he wasn't the only person happy to get away from eating. They both smirked vaguely at each other, making their way to the paramedic squad truck. Swiftly they hopped in.

"We were lucky this time," Johnny said while placing his helmet on his head.

Roy started the engine and said with a snort, "Maybe. But you know Chet's gonna want to force us to try it the second we get back." He turned the siren on and pulled out of the station alongside the fire-engine.

"What exactly _was _Chet cooking anyways?" Johnny asked, making a face.

"Chili...I think?" Roy shrugged and they exchanged a dubious sideways glance.

"Ugh...not again..." Johnny mumbled to himself before falling silent for the rest of the drive. Along the way, dispatch railed off a few more stations getting called to the same scene. The numerous, scratchy alarms of different tones denoted just how serious the call was.

Roy shook his head. "Sounds like a big one..."

The apartment complex sat right at the intersection of Figueroa and 228th Street, the front half of it roiling with smoke and flames. As usual, there were many on-lookers clogging up the scene and they all had to dash out of the way just so the fire engine and rescue squad could park.

Johnny hopped out of the truck just as soon as Roy had secured the parking brake. He rushed to get equipment, but halted in the middle of his actions the moment he noticed a hysterical young woman running towards him.

"_Dios mío!" _she shouted, grabbing hold of the sleeve of Johnny's half-put-on fire-jacket. "_Señor! Señor! Mi novio!"_

He slightly shook his head at her with trepidation over his limited knowledge of Spanish. "Um—_yo no sé...mucho español..." _he drawled the best as he could, hoping that was right and that she understood. Then he looked around for the only person who could help him.

While Captain Stanley was asking the captain from Engine 99 about how many people were successfully evacuated, the men of Engine 51 were busy pulling out the hose. Johnny called out to one of them. "Marco! I need your help!"

Marco Lopez—the only fireman on the whole team that could speak decent Spanish—looked up from his duties.

"What is it?" he shouted over at Johnny.

"This woman! I don't think she speaks any English! She's trying to tell me something!" Johnny looked back to the woman, who was now crying and still clinging to his jacket. Marco left the others and jogged up to them.

"_Señorita? Qué pasa?" _Marco asked her.

Johnny watched the poor woman in worry as Roy came up beside him already clad in his fire-jacket and oxygen tank.

"What's going on?" Roy queried.

"I just asked her that," Marco returned, trying to steady the woman as she became more and more hysterical.

"_Mi novio," _she cried. "_Está allí!" _Frantically she pointed to a fourth-floor window through which smoke billowed out. Marco looked up at it in horror.

"Is someone up there, Marco?" Roy asked bluntly.

He nodded. "Her boyfriend."

"We better tell the captain," Johnny said as he quickly finished putting on his jacket and grabbed his tank.

Together, he and Roy trotted over to the captain.

"I'm pretty sure everyone was evacuated in time," a balding man with large glasses and a tweed suit, probably the apartment's landlord, was telling Captain Stanley and the captain from 99.

"That's a negative, Captain!" Johnny interrupted urgently.

Captain Stanley looked to the two paramedics, his thick dark eyebrows knitting together in a concerned frown.

"That young lady over there told us her boyfriend is trapped on the fourth floor," Johnny continued.

"Oh no!" blurted the tweed-suited landlord, looking suddenly pasty at realising the fact that all of his tenants had not been evacuated.

"Don't worry, Mr. Channing," Captain Stanley reassured the man. "We'll get him out." The captain then took a moment to survey the burning apartment building. The men from 99 and the men from 10 already had their hoses on it and were working on the very front of the building where the fire was most out of hand.

"Is there any entrance around the side of the building that my men could use to reach the fourth floor?" Captain Stanley asked Mr. Channing as he continued to squint at the scene.

"Oh! There is a stairwell over there that opens to the ground floor." The landlord pointed to the southern face of the complex.

Captain Stanley looked to Johnny and Roy. "Take that stairwell up, boys."

"All right, Cap," Johnny responded, eager to be on his way.

"Kelly, accompany Gage and DeSoto with the hose," the captain ordered the short, moustached Chet Kelly, cook of the infamous chili that awaited them all back at the station. Chet nodded and joined Johnny and Roy as they made way for stairwell door. Before entering, they tied a line to one another so they wouldn't get separated inside, and then they put on their air masks.

Thankfully, the stairwell had not yet been engulfed with smoke. It wasn't until the three of them reached the fourth floor and opened a door into the hallway that a mass of it finally reached them. It hung languidly all around them like a stagnate cloud. Not that much further ahead, the sound of fire cracking could be heard.

"Do you guys know where the person you're looking for is?" Chet asked uncertainly.

Johnny concentrated hard as they inched on down the hall, trying to remember exactly where the young Hispanic woman had pointed. "I'm pretty sure it was the second window on the left hand side of the southern face."

"You're _pretty _sure, Gage?" Chet went on in exasperation.

"Pretty sure, all right!"

"If you're right, Johnny," Roy said, turning around to face him. "It should be a few doors ahead."

They inched further a few more feet. The air became stiflingly hot of a sudden and the sound of burning wood increased the closer they got towards the end of the hall.

"Where is that sound coming from?" Roy asked.

It was certain, now that they had made it this far, that the sound wasn't coming from ahead of them. _Above us, _Johnny suddenly thought, but before he could say anything, there was a terrible cracking sound. A large chunk of the ceiling caved in, flaming beams falling on the line that secured him and Roy together. The rope brought Johnny smashing to the ground.

In a split second his mind raced to the worst case scenario: that Roy had been caught beneath the debris. He tried to get up, but the rope was holding him down.

"Roy!" Chet called out from behind him, lifting off his mask for the sound to travel better. "Roy, are you all right?"

"Yes!" came the muffled reply. "The rope is caught under the debris and it's holding me down though. Is Johnny okay?"

Chet coughed and looked to Johnny. "You all right, Gage?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"He's fine!"

Johnny pulled down his face mask. "Roy!" he hollered. "I'm going to cut the rope on my end so I can get up."

"Okay! Me too!"

Out of his pocket, Johnny grabbed a Swiss army knife. With his gloves on he fumbled with it until it finally popped open. He severed the rope with urgency.

Once he was up and out of the way, Chet turned on his fire hose and sprayed the debris until it was wet enough to walk over. They met Roy on the other side. Thankfully no flames had spread to their level yet.

"That was a close call," Chet muttered and then coughed. "How much further?"

"Two doors down," Roy said, turning to look at both of them. "Not far at all. We've got to hurry though. I think we have fire above us and below us."

"Great," Chet said. "We're the meat in a burning sandwich then."

Roy shook his head, smiling at Chet's comment out of the pure craziness of it all. He then took another step down the hall and towards the second door to the end.

That was when another terrible crack sounded as the floor suddenly gave way several feet from where Roy stood. The flames and hot air that burst up from it sent him tripping backwards into Johnny, and Johnny into Chet. They landed back near the pile of debris, struggling to get up and off one and other. As soon as Johnny and Roy got off of Chet, he brandished the fire hose and began attacking the area where the floor had given way. Standing straight, Johnny realised that Roy was having a hard time getting up himself, grimacing in some sort of pain.

"What's the matter, Roy?" Johnny asked.

"My leg," he replied. "It hurts!"

Johnny looked over to Chet, who was still hosing the hole in the floor. "Get Roy out of here now," he ordered. "He's injured. I'll go get the trapped man myself."

"Alone, Gage?" Chet protested in outrage as Johnny inched carefully around him on the part of the floor that was still holding stable. "Are you nuts?"

"Just do it!"

And Johnny's sudden anger shut Chet up. He turned the hose off, hauled the injured Roy over his shoulders as commanded and dragged him back down the hall along with the fire hose.

"And tell Captain Stanley to send the Snorkel and a Stokes to the window!" Johnny called after him.

"Gotcha!" Chet returned as he, Roy, and the hose disappeared down the stairwell and out of sight.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO!**

ROY lay on his back in the parking lot of the apartment complex with little more than a thin blanket between himself and the asphalt. But the uncomfortable gravel digging into his back was nothing compared to the pain in his ankle. Was a muscle only pulled? Or was it sprained? Broken? No one could tell him at the moment, and he certainly couldn't tell for himself.

A few feet away, Johnny and Chet were performing CPR on the young man that had been trapped in the burning apartment. Captain Stanley was on the bio-phone with the hospital.

After CPR had been performed for several moments, the young man suddenly started coughing and then appeared to be breathing again.

"He's breathing and conscious!" Johnny shouted.

"Rampart," Captain Stanley said into the bio-phone, "the patient is now conscious and breathing on his own."

"New set of vitals, 51?" the voice of Dr. Kelly Brackett came over the radio.

Johnny rushed to take a pulse and respiration while Chet fumbled to take the blood pressure, and Roy started trying to get up so he could help. Captain Stanley noticed him, however, and told him to stay where he was. "You're injured, DeSoto," he said. "You need to lie back down."

Roy sighed, but did just as the captain said.

"Pulse is 110 and respiration is 25," Johnny said after several moments.

"BP is back to normal," Chet said. "120 over 80."

"Tell Rampart the patient is suffering from first and second degree burns and smoke inhalation," Johnny added.

Captain Stanley then repeated all this information for the hospital.

"51," Dr. Brackett replied through the radio, "administer oxygen and an IV of Ringer's lactate and transport as soon as possible."

"10-4, Rampart," the captain acknowledged.

After the IV and oxygen were administered, a pair of white-suited ambulance attendants then lifted the young man out of the Stokes basket, onto a gurney, and into an ambulance.

"Are you riding with us?" One of them asked Johnny.

"Just a moment," he replied. "I've got a second patient to tend to. The young lady over there would probably like to ride along." Johnny gestured to the young man's girlfriend who was standing several feet away with a cluster of other onlookers. "I'll be along as soon as I can."

The attendant nodded and was then on his way.

"It's all right, Johnny!" Roy blurted. "I don't need to go along—"

"What's the status of the second patient, 51?" Dr. Brackett's voice suddenly asked, interrupting Roy's protest.

Johnny took the bio-phone from the captain and spoke into it. "Rampart, the patient complains of a pain in his ankle. It is unapparent whether or not the injury is a fracture. I will be splinting it just in case."

Roy rolled his eyes slightly, and then began coughing uncontrollably.

Johnny looked at him for a second. "The patient also appears to suffer from some smoke inhalation."

"Are there any external burns present, 51?"

"Negative, Rampart."

"Put on that splint and transport as soon as possible."

Johnny nodded. "10-4."

Johnny finished splinting up Roy's ankle and the ambulance attendants returned to help Johnny put Roy on a gurney. "Doctor's orders," he said to Roy with a smirk as they rolled him into the back of the ambulance and Johnny jumped in to sit along for the ride.

"I'll drive the squad to the hospital for you," Chet said, closing the door and patting the back of the ambulance to see them off.

* * *

><p><strong>Rampart General Hospital<strong>

**Torrance, California**

When they arrived at the hospital Roy was taken inside in a wheelchair just behind the young man rescued from the fire. Upon their entering the emergency room, Dr. Brackett swooped swiftly down the hall towards them, his large white doctor's coat fanning out behind him. First he took a few moments to look over the young man.

"Take him to treatment two," he said, his default expression of sternness overtaking his features. "I'll be there in a moment."

Orderlies took the young man away, and Dr. Brackett moved onto the next. Surprise replaced his default look when he noticed it was Roy.

"Roy," he began. "Are you all right? What happened?"

"He hurt his ankle during the rescue," Johnny offered.

"So _you _were the second patient, huh?" Dr. Brackett asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah," Roy mumbled. "Unfortunately."

Just then, Dr. Joe Early walked over casually and Dr. Brackett stopped him. "Joe," he said, "could you take our paramedic friend here to treatment three? I got a patient in treatment two I've got to go tend to."

"Sure," the older doctor said.

"Thanks." And then Dr. Brackett was off to go treat the young man rescued from the fire.

"What happened, Roy?" Dr. Early asked cordially as he led them to treatment three with Johnny pushing Roy's wheelchair.

"Did something to my left ankle," he said.

Once in treatment three, Dr. Early and Johnny helped him up onto the table. Dr. Early then took off the splint to examine his ankle. It hurt as the doctor applied pressure to the injury, but Roy noticed it didn't pain him nearly as bad as it did before.

"So, what do you think, Doc?"

Dr. Early scratched his grey head. "Not sure yet, Roy. I'd like to take an X-ray just to make sure nothing is broken or sprained."

"That's really necessary?" Roy asked, trying to sit up. Dr. Early gently stopped him and set him back down.

"Yes, I think so," Dr. Early said. "You can never be too careful with an ankle injury. Just relax and we'll get the x-ray machine in here as soon as we can."

Roy sighed and tried to relax, but it all seemed like too much fuss over a little ankle injury. But then, when he thought about it for a minute, he supposed that it wouldn't hurt one way or another. If it was sprained or broken, he'd need to know about it. He realised he probably wasn't the best patient—and as it was said that doctor's made the worst patients, perhaps the same thing could be said of paramedics.

"Johnny?" Roy asked softly as Dr. Early stepped aside to make a call.

"Huh?"

"What time is it?"

Johnny took a glance at his watch. "Er—it's about a quarter to four. Why? What's so important about the time?"

"We're supposed to get off at five today and Joanne was planning a nice dinner. I'd really hate to be late for it, and I'm pretty sure she wouldn't like it either."

Johnny shrugged. "Oh, I'm sure Joanne'll be just fine. She's been married to you long enough to know that unexpected things happen when your husband's a fireman, and ya just learn how to deal with it."

Roy fought the urge to roll his eyes. That statement just proved that Johnny Gage really didn't know _anything _about marriage (let alone a serious relationship). Roy thought about saying something back, but it was no use. Johnny wouldn't have understood it anyways. Instead, Roy directed his attention to Dr. Early, who was still standing in the corner talking on the phone.

"What do you mean 'not working'?" the doctor was asking the person on the other end of the line. "Well, what about the other two? In use right now? How long do you suppose that'll take?...All right...Yes...Just get one here to treatment three as soon as you can...Thanks." Dr. Early then hung up the phone and looked over to Roy and Johnny.

"What's the story, Doc?" Johnny asked.

Dr. Early sighed. "Well," he began, "that was Radiology. Apparently one X-ray machine is being repaired and the other two are in use, so we'll have to wait until one is available."

"And how long do you think that'll be?" Roy asked, trying not to sound too over-eager about it.

"Shouldn't be too long," Dr. Early said with a reassuring smile. Roy wanted to feel hopeful about that, but something told him he'd be waiting more than just a few minutes.

Just then, the door swung gently open and head nurse Dixie McCall looked in. "Dr. Early..." she began, but trailed off after noticing Roy and Johnny. "Roy!" She walked in and up to the table. "What happened to you?"

"Probably twisted my ankle," he replied, shifting uncomfortably on the pad beneath him.

"I've ordered X-rays," Dr. Early added. "Hopefully someone from Radiology will be down here soon enough."

"Well, I sure hope that it's not twisted," Dixie said. "That could have you off your feet for a month or two."

Roy gulped. That thought hadn't yet crossed his mind, and he certainly didn't want to think about that. "I hope not too...hey, Dix, are you busy right now?"

Dixie shook her head with a smile. "Not at the moment. Why, what do you need?"

"Could you do me a favour and call Joanne for me? I just want her to know what happened and that I'm probably going to be late for dinner."

"I'll go call her right now." And with that, Dixie left the room and the wait for the X-ray machine began.

* * *

><p>It was nearly another hour and a half before the X-rays were finally finished. Now, Dixie and Dr. Early were examining the radiographs and Roy fidgeted in his wheelchair, waiting for the diagnosis.<p>

"Well," Dr. Early finally said, adjusting his glasses as he looked the X-rays over. "It doesn't look like there are any broken bones. And there appears to be no torn ligaments either." He took his glasses off and looked to Roy. "I believe what you're suffering from is a pulled muscle."

Roy blinked. "All this for a pulled muscle?"

"So what's the treatment, Doc," Johnny asked, somewhat facetious.

"I recommend that the patient ice the injury periodically, take some ibuprofen, and avoid any unnecessary movement for the next few days." Dr. Early smiled and gave Roy a pat on the shoulder. "See you guys later."

"See ya!" Johnny said, wheeling Roy out of the room.

"Thanks, Dr. Early," Roy said over his shoulder just before the door swung closed. They then made their way out the emergency room door and Johnny wheeled Roy up to the squad and helped him into the passenger's seat.

Once they were both in the truck and ready to go, Roy asked Johnny: "Do you think a shower at the station counts as unnecessary movement?"

Johnny sniffed the air around Roy and made a face. "Nah. I think it's very necessary..."


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE!**

**Torrance, California**

BY the time Roy had finished showering at the station and was through wrestling his way around Thursday rush-hour traffic, it was already seven o'clock. The sun was nearly set on the sycamore-lined residential street as he drove up. Warm lights shone from the windows of all the nearly identical ranch-styled homes. Roy pulled into the driveway of his own ranch house—the single-story blue with the white accents. It had the same exact floor plan as the Jenkins' across the street, but at least it wasn't the same colour (and had a neater garden).

As he got out of his car and limped up the gravel walkway to the front door, someone across the street called to him. "Good evening, Mr. DeSoto!"

It was the ever-cheerful, geeky neighbour kid, Ronnie Jenkins, who was good friends with Roy's son despite being two years older. He was turning on the front yard sprinklers to water his mother's weedy over-growth of hollyhock flowers.

"Hey, Ronnie," Roy replied, trying not to sound too disheartened. The last thing he wanted right now was to have a meaningful discussion with the neighbour kid—and Ronnie tended to like discussing things a little _too _much.

"What's it been like at the fire station?" Ronnie asked, hollering over the sprinklers he'd just turned on. "You had any extreme rescues lately? Have you—?"

"It's been all right!" Roy hollered back. He'd have to leave it at that for fear of sparking more conversation. "Have a good night, Ronnie."

"Um...you too Mr. DeSoto. Tell Chris I said hi..."

"I sure will."

And with that, Roy watched the neighbour kid skulk back into his house. Then he turned to open his own front door. _Finally home, _he thought with a sigh.

Once he was inside, Joanne was there quickly to greet him. At first she looked worried, glancing down at his ankle then back to his face. Then she smiled in relief and hugged him tightly.

"You're okay?" she whispered into his shoulder as she hugged him.

"Fine, fine," he answered softly. "Dr. Early said it was only a pulled muscle and that I should just take some aspirin and stay off of it for the weekend."

"Daddy!"

They both turned at the sound of their daughter's voice coming from the adjacent living room. Jennifer poked her head over the couch to look at them, her strawberry blonde pigtails bouncing. "You're home!" she went on happily.

"Hey, Dad!" Chris added, too busy watching _Wheel of Fortune _on the TV to do anything but half turn around.

"Hey, kids," Roy said to both of them with a smile.

"Well," Joanne said to him, "if Dr. Early told you to sit down, why don't you go sit down. I'll bring you your dinner. We already ate, but I saved enough for you in the oven." Her eyes looked a little bit sad at the mention of him missing dinner, but she still smiled.

"Thanks, Jo," Roy said as he limped over to the couch feeling more than a little guilty over the whole thing.

"Mom said you hurt your ankle," Chris commented as his father sat between him and Jennifer on the couch, still unable to peel his freckled face away from the television. "That's really a drag."

"Tell me about it." Roy lifted his injured ankle up on the ottoman. "But the doctor says it'll be okay in a few days."

"That's cool."

"So...how was school today?"

Chris shrugged. "It was okay...Sorry, Dad, can I watch this?"

Roy sighed. _Eight-year-olds._

"What do you think it is, Daddy?" Jennifer suddenly asked, referring to the phrase the contestants on _Wheel of Fortune _were trying to solve. She happily leaned up against his side, considering the TV.

"_Shhh!" _Chris admonished her. "I'm trying to listen!"

Jennifer instantly stuck her tongue out at him, but all Roy had to do was look at her to make her stop. She flung herself back into the couch pillow with her arms folded tightly across her chest with a pout. _Five-year-olds..._

That was when Joanne arrived with Roy's dinner. "What is going on here?" she asked, noticing Jennifer's pout. "Are you kids being mean to each other?"

"Chris was being mean to _me!" _Jennifer spoke up first.

"She won't be quiet and I'm trying to listen!" Chris gave her a dirty look.

"Stop it, kids" Joanne ordered, handing Roy his tray of food, "both of you. You're being very rude. Your father hurt himself at work today and he's not feeling well, and I can guarantee this nonsense isn't going to make him feel any better. Now, stop it or I'll send the two of you to bed right now."

The kids were quiet almost immediately at the mention of that. Joanne took a seat on the other side of Jennifer, knowing that her orders had been heeded.

"Thanks for dinner, honey," Roy said, picking up his fork to dig into the green bean casserole. He was very hungry, but also inwardly grateful that he didn't have to eat Chet's chili earlier. Starving to avoid that was definitely worth it.

Joanne nodded, smiling. "You're welcome," she said. "I'll bring you your aspirin after you eat. Wouldn't be good to take it on an empty stomach."

Roy nodded back to her, his mouth full, but she understood that he was saying thanks again.

She smiled bigger and then looked over the puzzle on _Wheel of Fortune. _"Hm...I'm going to guess it's 'don't let the cat out of the bag'." There were only a handful of letters up on the board already, but it fit.

"_Mooooom..." _Chris blurted in irritation. "I was just about to guess that!"

Then one of the contestants guessed the same thing and they all laughed.

* * *

><p>After the kids had been sent to bed, Roy and Joanne sat back at the couch to watch the evening news broadcast. Embedded after the usual braking news stories—shooting in El Segundo, terrible accident on the 405, Boston Red Sox defeat the Cincinnati Reds in World Series game—was a little mention about that afternoon's apartment fire.<p>

"An apartment fire in Carson was quickly apprehended by the County Fire Department this afternoon," the reporter was saying. "Thankfully, no lives were lost and only one individual suffered major injuries."

"Two!" Joanne said to the TV. "My husband! The media never get's their facts straight."

"_Major _injuries," Roy muttered. "I pulled a lousy muscle in my ankle. It's not really breaking news."

Joanne turned to him as some local commercial came on—a loud-mouthed salesman shouting at you to buy his cars. "How exactly did you pull that muscle, anyways?" Joanne asked.

Roy dreaded these kinds of questions. He always told Joanne the truth when she asked about his work, but he hated seeing how disturbed she got when he told her about life-threatening scenarios. She never really said how much it disturbed her, but he could see it in her eyes.

"Well." He cleared his throat. "Johnny, Chet, and I went up to the fourth floor of the building to get someone out. The fire spread fast and the floor almost caved in beneath us. I jumped back and landed on the other guys, and it was a big mess."

Joanne sharply sucked in her breath at the mention of the floor caving in, and then covered her mouth.

"But everything was fine," Roy assured her. "Aside from my stupid ankle."

"Fine for this time at least." She grimaced and was silent for a few prolonged moments. "I'm sorry..."

"Joanne?"

She took Roy's hand and looked at him squarely. "It's just—when Dixie called and said you were at the hospital, my heart just about sunk to the floor. I know it was just your ankle, but what about next time?" She sighed and swallowed thickly. "I just worry about you sometimes...that's all..."

"I know." He squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry, Jo...I—"

Gently she put the tips of her fingers to his mouth to stop him from talking. "Don't be sorry," she insisted. "I try not to express my worries that often, because I know you love your job very much. Just—please...always be careful, promise me?"

Roy smiled and hugged Joanne to him. "Always..."


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR!**

**Carson, California**

NIGEL Cunningham surveyed the scene of the apartment fire closely, taking note of every little thing he saw. What was left of a suspicious glass bottle near the window of room 106 on the ground floor, possible point of origin, the odour of gasoline. With keen eyes and an even keener sense of smell, Cunningham noted it all.

Of course, he wasn't called the best fire investigator in Los Angeles County for nothing. He really was the best. And he knew it, too.

Standing up, he looked over to the junior investigators scanning the other parts of the charred room 106.

"Ahem!" He picked at his well-shaped moustache and waited for the junior investigators to acknowledge him.

The three of them stopped their scanning to look in his direction.

"Did you find something?" one asked.

_Did you find something, __**sir, **_Cunningham corrected in his thoughts without speaking aloud. "Yes, I did," he said instead. "Come take a look at this and tell me what you think of it, Marlowe."

Marlowe carefully worked his way over to the place where Cunningham stood pointing to the floor. Near the blown-out window a partially melted glass container of some kind rested on the floor.

"Melted glass?" Marlowe asked.

Cunningham lifted his eyebrows. "Says Molotov cocktail to me."

"Maybe," Marlowe said. "But it could also be a melted vase or something..."

"What do you smell, Mr. Marlowe?"

Marlowe squinted. "What do I smell?"

"What do you _smell?"_

"Um...I smell lots of burnt wood..."

"No, no, no!" Cunningham took Marlowe by the collar of his fire jacket and forced him to kneel with him. "Smell the glass. Go, on—sniff it."

Marlowe sniffed the glass and then choked. "Gasoline?"

"Accelerant!" Cunningham stood up and clapped happily. "Bravo! Now get up, and look at the direction in which the fire spread."

Standing too, Marlowe looked, noticing how the origin of the fire seemed to come from where the glass was melted on the floor, spreading away from the window and to the rest of the apartment. "Point of origin?"

"Molotov cocktail," Cunningham said, his moustache curving up into a smile. He whipped out a Polaroid camera and snapped some pictures of the glass and the rest of the scene. "I believe we need to give the Sheriff's Department a call. It's their investigation now. I rule this fire suspicious and probable arson!"

* * *

><p><strong>Station 51<strong>

Having arrived quite early for his shift that Monday morning, Johnny was nearly ready by the time Roy trudged into the locker-room.

"Your ankle feeling any better?" Johnny asked his partner the moment he walked in.

"Yeah." Roy shuffled over to his locker and opened it. "It's feeling a lot better."

"That's great." Johnny tucked in his shirt and then closed his locker up with a smile.

"You seem happy..." Roy observed apprehensively as Johnny sat down on a nearby bench. At that cue, Johnny reasoned that Roy wouldn't mind hearing about the details of his weekend while getting ready, so he went into his lively narrative. "It was absolutely far out, Roy!" Johnny began. "You remember Barbara, don't you?"

Roy half-heartedly turned to glance at Johnny as he put his shirt on. "Uh...who?"

"The stewardess," Johnny went on. "Barbara."

"Johnny...I don't keep regular tabs on all the girls you date..."

"Come on." Johnny was surprised that Roy didn't remember Barb. She was probably the most serious girlfriend he'd ever had. Well—other than Valerie—then again, he certainly never wanted to think about _Valerie _ever again consider how _that _ended up. Yes, Barb was definately more serious than Valerie...

"You really don't remember Barbara?" Johnny went on. "I mean—her and I—we..."

Roy slowly shook his head.

"Never mind." Johnny shook his head too. "It's not that important. Just—we ran into each other again a few weeks ago and got to talking. She wanted to start going out again, so we have."

"Mmm-hmm..."

"Anyways—she is one crazy chick! I really don't recall her ever having quite a wild side the _last _time we went out. We were both up at my friend, Jake's, housewarming party in Palos Verdes on Saturday, and the place he bought is just out of sight!"

"Right..."

Johnny chuckled at himself. He was only just getting to the good part. "Well, it's got this really nice Jacuzzi, right? And since it was kinda cold we were all hanging out in it for a while. So Barb does the craziest thing. She says, 'I'm hot' and gets out of the Jacuzzi. And—get this—she goes to jump in the freezing swimming pool, _after _she—" Johnny trailed off the second he noticed someone standing next to him.

"Go on, John," A voice egged on.

Johnny turned to see Chet standing there, eagerly waiting for him to finish his story. "Get out of here, Chet!" Johnny yelled as he stood and shoved him away.

"Aw, but I wanted to hear the rest!" Chet lingered in the doorway.

"I was tellin' it to Roy, not you," Johnny grumbled at him through clenched teeth.

"Well," Roy said bluntly, "Chet actually _wants _to hear it..."

Johnny flung around to look at Roy. He couldn't believe his partner didn't want to hear about his weekend! "Now I see how it is! I guess my weekend was unimportant. How was _your _weekend, Roy?—since ya don't wanna hear about mine..."

"It was all right." Roy closed up his locker with a half-grin. "Other than sitting around all day listening to Joanne talk about how worried she was about me."

Chet nodded in mock concern. "Trouble with the misses?"

Johnny chuckled and Roy glared at him.

"Not trouble," Roy corrected. "She just got really upset with me inuring myself, that's all. We had the age-old discussion about always being careful on the job."

"You mean: age-old argument," Chet suggested.

Roy frowned. "Chet—get out of here..."

The facetious smirk left Chet's face at the tone of Roy's voice and he acted like he'd heard something. "Oh, man...I think I hear the Captain calling me. Se ya later, guys..." And with that, he was gone as fast as he had appeared.

"See ya later, guys..." Johnny repeated in exasperation. "_Pft! _What a ridiculous...Hey?" Johnny noticed Roy suddenly looked beat. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Roy shrugged a little, looking down at his feet.

Johnny knew what it was without even having to ask any further questions. "Joanne was really worried about ya, wasn't she?"

"Yeah."

Johnny pursed his lips in thought and leaned up against the doorway. "I thought she was usually okay with your job."

"She is." Roy sat down on the bench. "But I guess it just got to her this time."

That was when an idea popped into Johnny's head, and the second it was there he deemed it brilliant. He just had to mention it right away. This would _certainly _help his friend out. "You know what you and Joanne need?" he asked in excitement.

Roy tentatively looked up at him. "What...?"

"You need to go out or something! Have some fun!"

"We go out," Roy suddenly defended himself. "We have fun."

Johnny was instantly doubtful of this. "Well," he said. "When's the last time you went out together?"

"Last month, for our anniversary. We had dinner at that seafood place on the pier."

_What an excuse!_ Johnny thought. _An anniversary!_ "That doesn't _count!" _he said as he shook his head vehemently. "An anniversary is an obligatory sorta date. When's the last time you guys went out just for the heck of it?"

Roy looked like he was thinking for a prolonged moment and then opened his mouth. "Uh—well, I dunno...we won that free dinner from that game show we were on?"

"That was almost two years ago...just listen to this, Roy. Why don't you and Joanne go out dancing with me and Barbara? We were thinking about going this coming Friday. A double date. Whataya say?"

Roy scratched his head. "Well—uh...what kind of dancing?"

Johnny snorted. "What kinda dancing...Disco dancing, Roy. It's the latest thing these days. Now, I know there's a significant age gap between you and me, but I'm sure you'll love it anyways."

Roy gave Johnny an annoyed look. "Johnny...we're only a year-and-a-half apart..."

"Well, whataya _say? _Will ya talk to Joanne about it, or not?"

Roy shrugged. "All right! I'll talk to her about it when I get home..."

Johnny flashed a crooked smile. "Great! We'll have fun!"

Just then their conversation was interrupted when the locker-room door opened and Mike Stoker peered in. "Are you guys coming?" the taciturn engineer asked. "Marco's almost got breakfast ready."

At the mention of food, Johnny completely forgot about anything other than his sudden hunger. "My stomach's digesting itself!" he exclaimed as he and Roy followed Mike over to the kitchen. Over at the stove, Marco was creating something magical—as always. From the smell of it, it was some kind of spiced-up omelette. Johnny's mouth watered as he sat down in between Roy and Mike.

"That smells really good, Marco," Johnny hollered back to him.

"It's almost done," Marco replied.

"I just hope we have time to eat it," Chet said. "I was a little disappointed that you guys didn't get the chance to try my chili last Thursday."

Johnny had a slight gag reflex, Roy made a face, and Mike grumbled something.

"What?" Chet asked, but none of them dared to answer him.

"So, where's Cap?" Johnny asked, changing the subject.

"He had some sort of phone call," Marco supplied as he flipped his omelette over in the pan. "I think it was pretty important. He closed the office door..."

The other firemen looked over. Sure enough, the door to Captain Stanley's office was shut.

"Huh," Johnny mused. "I wonder what it could be..."

"Here's your slice." Marco flopped a triangle of omelette on Johnny's plate, taking all his concentration away from Captain Stanley's phone call.

Johnny dug in immediately, stuffing his face with a large chunk of egg. "This is great!" he chortled with his mouth full.

The other guys were too busy eating to say anything, so the table fell silent for a time, until Captain Stanley came walking in. His hands rested limply in his pants pockets and he had a concerned look on his face.

"What is it, Cap?" Roy asked him as he sat down at the table.

Captain Stanley shook his head. "That was a call from the Battalion Chief," he said. "He wanted to inform everyone that was called to that apartment fire that the investigators ruled it arson."

Chet leaned forward, pointing with his fork. "You mean someone intentionally _set _that one?"

"That's what _arson _means," Johnny stated flatly. Chet glowered back at him.

"Well," Marco said, "maybe it was just a bunch of stupid kids who set it unwittingly."

Captain Stanley's face fell into a frank expression. "Apparently they're not releasing details yet," he said. "But the head investigator was adamant that it wasn't any kind of accident. The Battalion Chief wants us all to be on high alert just in case this wasn't an isolated incident and there's some lunatic going around."

The alarm suddenly sounded then, startling all the firemen and sending them even more on edge.

"Squad 51," the dispatcher began, and everyone save for Johnny and Roy sighed in relief. "Possible heart attack. 25204, Eshelman Avenue, cross street: 253rd."

Johnny and Roy quickly made their way to the squad and were off in a flash, thankful that, this time, it wasn't a fire.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE!**

THE man in Lomita wasn't even suffering from a heart attack.

When the nervous, old gentleman keeled over in his living room, his wife instantly thought he was going into cardiac arrest. She called the fire department without hesitation. When Johnny and Roy arrived, though, what they found was a poor elderly man suffering from nothing more than acute hyperventilation syndrome. Apparently he'd never flown on an airplane before and was leaving for LAX that afternoon for a flight to Austin to visit his son. His apprehension had been eating him up all morning until it finally cumulated into a panic attack.

Johnny and Roy transported him as a precaution over his age, but for the most part the man seemed fine after breathing into a paper bag the entire way over to Rampart.

Now, Johnny and Roy were leaving Rampart, on their way back to the station.

"You know," Johnny spoke up, watching palm trees planted along the sidewalk go by as they drove past, "I think I know what your problem is, Roy."

Roy glanced over at him for a second. The look on his face spoke for itself, informing Johnny that he had no idea what he was even talk about. "What is _that _supposed to mean?" Roy questioned.

Johnny rested his arm on the sill of the open truck window. "You know—why you and Joanne don't go out enough."

"Are we still talking about this?"

"I think it's 'cuz you haven't found a real good baby sitter yet."

"Johnny—I already said that I'd—"

"Now—just listen to this, Roy." Johnny didn't have time for Roy's objections. His plan was fool-proof and he knew it. "I know how much you hate to rely on your dear, old mother-in-law for these kinds of things, so I got to thinking about it. When we go out on Friday you can have my niece watch the kids for you."

Roy squinted. "Your niece?"

"Yeah, CeCe—she's fourteen and she loves to babysit. _Plus, _she doesn't charge that much..."

"Oh, well." Roy shrugged a little and then turned left onto Wilmington. "I wouldn't want to trouble her..."

"No trouble at all!" Johnny knew CeCe was always looking for new babysitting jobs. She'd be thrilled to hear about this. "She lives in Redondo Beach, so it's not too far for her to go, and she's great with kids."

"I guess if you can work it out...I still have to talk to Joanne about the whole thing."

"Call her when we get back, th—"

The radio cut Johnny off mid-sentence then, and they both silenced themselves to listen.

"Squad 51?" the dispatcher asked. "Are you available?"

Johnny picked up the radio. "10-4, LA. We're en route to Station 51."

"There is an unknown type rescue in your area."

"We'll take it." Johnny gave a sidelong glance to Roy as they both put on their helmets.

"22589 South Vermont Avenue, number 227, cross street: 228th. Time out: 10:45."

Johnny quickly wrote the address down as Roy flipped the siren on and sped up.

They reached the address several minutes later, finding themselves at a typical-looking apartment complex. They jumped out of the squad, and jogged to get the bio-phone, medicine box, and portable oxygen tank. One could never be too sure with an "unknown type rescue." Then they made their way up to room 227.

Outside in the hallway, an older woman stood in front of 227, worriedly wringing her hands. The second she saw them coming her way, she went up to them.

"Are you the gentlemen from the fire department?" she asked.

"Yes," Roy answered. "Did you call for help?"

The woman shook her head, her permed grey hair bouncing with her movement. "It isn't me," she told them. "It's my neighbour, Dana Caldwell."

"What's wrong with her?" Johnny asked.

"Well..." the woman put her hands out before her as she explained. "I haven't seen her the entire morning, and that just isn't normal. She usually says good morning to me when we both go to get our mail downstairs and she heads off to work."

"Do you know for sure if she's in there or not?" Roy asked, gesturing to the door.

"I'm sure." The woman remained adamant. "I would have _seen _her. And look, I think she and her husband had a terrible fight last night. I think he might have done something to her."

"Did you call the police?" Johnny asked.

The woman waved her hand around as if to dismiss that notion. "_They _never do anything! The last time I called them, they said there was nothing they could do because Dana wouldn't talk to them. Now, listen to me, I think that rotten husband did something terrible to her this time. And I saw _him _leave for work! I waited until he was gone to call you."

"Look," Roy explained. "We can't just break into someone's apartment unless we know for sure that they're in danger."

The woman stamped her foot. "Hm! I should have known calling the fire department was a mistake. You're even less helpful than the _police!"_

"What if she's right, Roy?" Johnny speculated. He walked up to the door and knocked. "Hello," he hollered. "Anyone home? This is the fire department!"

Johnny and Roy both put their ears up to the door, listening carefully.

"Help...me..."

It was very faint, but Johnny was pretty sure of what he heard. He looked to Roy for clarification and asked him if he'd heard it too.

"I sure did," Roy said. He turned and looked to the woman then. "Excuse me, Ms...?"

"Roth," she offered.

"Ms. Roth—I need you to do me a favour and call the sheriff's department. Can you do that?"

Ms. Roth nodded. "I sure can!" And then she was off to her own apartment next door.

Johnny then kicked open the door. "I've always wanted to do that," he said with a crooked smirk as they both rushed inside. What they found within was nothing to smile about, however.

The young woman lay on the floor by the couch, her long brown hair splayed out beneath her like a fan. "Help me," she groaned again groggily. "Please. I...I can't move."

Johnny and Roy hurried to kneel at her side. They did a few initial checks on her. Her skin was pale, covered with a fine cold sweat, and her breathing was laboured. She had a terrible black eye, but that appeared to be the least serious of her injuries.

"My leg," she wheezed, "It's broken, I think..."

Johnny checked it and it appeared she was right. He glanced over his shoulder. The coffee table was toppled and it seemed as though she had stumbled over it—or had been shoved over it.

The whole situation was beginning to make him sick to his stomach. He had to force himself to think objectively—it was the only way to make it through.

"Are you injured anywhere else?" Roy asked her.

The young woman made a terrible face. "Oh...my stomach...he wouldn't stop hurting me." She sobbed. "You won't tell him about this, will you? You won't tell him?"

"No," Roy said calmly. "But we did call the police. Whoever did this to you isn't going to get away with it."

Dana Caldwell grimaced, turning her head to the side.

"Johnny" Roy went on. "I'm going to check her vitals. Would you check her abdomen for injuries and then call the hospital?"

Johnny nodded and was on task right away. He lifted the bottom half of the young woman's flowery blouse to look at her stomach. To Johnny's dismay, there was a large, pooling bruise blooming across her abdomen. She reacted in pain when he put even the slightest gentle pressure on her sides

Johnny swallowed hard. "Roy, I think she's bleeding internally..."

His partner responded with a worried expression. "That would explain the symptoms of her apparent hypovolemia. BP is 90 over 70, pulse is 115, and respiration is 35. The EKG is reading marked tachycardia."

Quickly Johnny grabbed the bio-phone. "Rampart, this is Squad 51. How do you read?" He waited for a few seconds until the call was answered.

"Squad 51, this is Rampart." It was Dixie's voice on the return call. "We read you loud and clear."

"We have a female patient, approximately twenty-five years of age. She has a fractured tibia and appears to suffer from trauma to her abdominal region and possible internal bleeding." Johnny wiped sweat from his forehead and then repeated the vitals Roy had told him for the hospital.

"51." Dr. Early had replaced Dixie on the phone. "The patient appears to be in the third stage of hypovolemic shock. Start an IV with Ringer's Lactate, immobilise the fracture, and transport as soon as possible."

"10-4, Rampart." Johnny swallowed thickly again and then hung up the bio-phone. Roy was already in the process of starting the IV.

After quickly splinting the broken leg, Johnny stood to look out the window. He scanned the parking lot below for the ambulance and couldn't tell if it had arrived yet. Just then, his attention was taken away from the window as someone walked into the room. Johnny turned to see Sheriff's Deputy Vince Howard stride trough the doorway.

"The ambulance arrived just behind me," Vince said. "The attendants should be on their way up. What happened here?" He scratched his moustache and looked around the room with a frown darkening his features.

Johnny approached him. "It looks like a case of domestic violence," he said, also looking the scene over one more time.. The cop and the paramedic stood side-by-side and watched as the ambulance attendants arrived. They helped Roy put Dana Caldwell on a gurney.

"Doesn't it just make you sick, Vince?" Johnny asked.

Vince sighed. "Yeah."

"I've never seen anything this bad," Johnny went on. "I mean, sure—I've seen kids with back eyes and maybe a wife with a few bruises. But injuries like that? Never."

Vince gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Johnny. I'll make sure whoever's responsible doesn't get away with it."

"Good."

"Maybe you could help me?"

Johnny nodded. "Of course."

"Did you and Roy happen to talk to any witnesses?"

"Well." Johnny shrugged. "I don't know if she counts as a witness or not, but the neighbour who called us sure seemed to have a lot to say. She lives next door—229, I think."

"Thanks, Johnny." Vince shook his hand. "I'll go get her statement and then meet you guys back at the hospital. I'll need the victim's statement as soon as she can give it too."

"Right. See ya later, Vince."

And with that, the cop and the paramedic parted: Johnny off to accompany Roy and Vince off to find Ms. Roth. As Johnny followed the ambulance in the squad, he found himself dwelling on the situation until it made him just plain angry. _Vince'll get the bastard that did this, _he had to tell himself before pushing all his thoughts about it from his mind. Thankfully, the ride to Rampart wasn't a long one.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX!**

**Rampart General Hospital**

JOHNNY and Roy couldn't stay long with Dana Caldwell once she was admitted to the hospital. At once upon their arrival, Dr. Brackett and Dr. Morton rushed her off to a treatment room where they realised she needed immediate surgery after a quick examination. The paramedics left the doctors to their duties, wandering out to the nursing station where Dixie was just ending a call to a different squad.

"...administer an IV of D5W, and transport as soon as possible." She ended the call and looked up to Johnny and Roy with a weary look. "It's barely noon and I'm already exhausted," she said. "How is the woman you guys brought in?"

Johnny put his hands in his pockets and shook his head. "It doesn't look good."

"Dr. Brackett and Dr. Morton just rushed her off to the operating room," Roy added.

Dixie looked down sadly, her long lashes landing to rest on top of her high cheeks. "That's rough," she said. "Vince came in a few minutes ago and said it was probably her husband who beat her."

Roy sighed. "It really looks that way."

Dixie looked back up to both of them, pursing her lips. "You guys look like you're more beat than I am," she observed. "It's time for my lunch break. Why don't you both join me at the cafeteria?"

"Sounds like just the thing I need," Johnny replied, stretching his back. And he wasn't just talking about the chance to eat. Talking with Dixie for a while was therapy in itself. She always knew the right thing to say to make you feel better. And she always listened to what you had to say, never being dismissive of your feelings.

Midway through his stretch, however, the handie-talkie he carried in his back pocket startled him back into an upright position. He fumbled to get it as the dispatcher droned. "Squad 51?"

"Squad 51 available," Johnny replied, somewhat disappointed.

"Respond to incident with Engine 51. Structure fire, possible injuries. 1725 Vanderlip Drive, cross street: Narcissa. Time out: 12:25."

Johnny quickly wrote down the address and then stuffed his pad back in his shirt pocket, all the while frowning deeply. "10-4, LA," he responded. He then gave Dixie a haggard look. "Sorry, Dix. Rain check?"

She shrugged. "Duty calls, but I'll hold you guys to it. Next time you stop by, food awaits."

"See ya later, Dix." They both mumbled it in unison as they walked off.

"See ya later."

* * *

><p><strong>Rancho Palos Verdes, CA<strong>

The fire was up in the hills of Palos Verdes, in an area with houses so grand just looking at them made you sick to your stomach. One of these houses was surrounded by engine 51 and the Palos Verdes engine, 53. It was smaller compared to its neighbouring houses, albeit still made anything in Carson look insignificant by comparison. Johnny at once thought of his friend, Jake Mercer, who'd just bought a house up here. The successful young lawyer's house was probably no more than a mile away from here.

Johnny and Roy parked the squad along the sprawling gravel driveway that led up to the front of the house. Once they were out and had gathered their gear, they trotted over to Captain Stanley. The captain stood talking with a blonde woman wearing a blue dress. She was coughing between breaths, and she appeared to have some minor burns on her hands.

"Were you the only one home?" Stanley was asking her.

The woman nodded and coughed more. "My husband is at work and the kids are at school."

"Do you know how the fire started?"

"You wouldn't believe it!" The woman shook her head. "I was out getting water for the dogs when this psycho in a pick-up drives up and chucks something on the front porch! Next thing I know, there's smoke everywhere. I had to run to my neighbour's house down the road to call you guys. Before that, I tried to get in, but only ended burning my hands." She looked her hands over. They were blistered and shaking, but nothing too serious.

Captain Stanley slightly turned. "Gage, DeSoto," he stated, noticing them. "You're here. These fellas are paramedics," Stanley went on, looking back to the woman. "They'll treat your injuries and make sure you're taken care of."

The woman turned to Johnny and Roy, her brown eyes large and glassy. She presented her hands to them. "It was probably really stupid of me to try to get back in the house," she said.

"Here." Roy helped her to sit down on a garden wall made of ruddy cinder blocks without taking the opportunity to pass any judgment on her. "Let's take a look at these hands."

Johnny kneeled with Roy and they both looked them over.

"Looks mostly superficial to me," Johnny said. "You think we should call the hospital, Roy?"

"The hospital?" The woman looked dismissive of that. "Oh, I don't need to go to any hospital. It just hurts, that's all. Superficial, like you said."

"Well." Roy looked up at her seriously. "You should still have a doctor look at this as soon as possible."

She nodded. "Okay. I'll just take myself, then. No need to call an ambulance, or anything. I'd hate to trouble anyone over something like this."

"Fair enough," Roy said as he helped her up. "We'll treat it for you, and then you can have your doctor look at it. Do you have a faucet or hose anywhere around here? We need to run your hands under cool water for a little bit."

"Over here." The woman led them both to a long green garden hose coiled up beneath a faucet near the rim of the garden.

The paramedics ran the woman's hands under the fresh water for about fifteen minutes. All the while, they watched the progression of the fire fighters' struggle to put out the flames. Chet and Marco worked on the front part, while men from Engine 53 worked on the area of the garage where the flames had spread. Luckily, the fire seemed to be under control now, and not much of the house had been affected.

Johnny turned the hose off. "That should do it," he said. He opened the drug box and pulled out some dressings. "We'll patch this up for you now."

Once the woman's hands were padded dry, Johnny wrapped both of them up carefully.

"Thanks!" The woman flashed them both a bright smile. "You guys are wonderful." She turned and considered her house for a moment. "Well, I suppose I better walk back down to the neighbour's and see if I can't get a hold of my husband. _And _some aspirin."

"You want a ride?" Roy asked.

The woman shook her head. "No thanks. But that's awful kind of you to offer." She smiled again and turned away for them. Johnny and Roy watched as she walked away.

As she was disappearing down the road, a sheriff's car appeared and drove up, parking right by the squad. Two helmeted sheriff's deputies exited the car. They walked over, their burnished aviator glasses glistening in the sun. Johnny recognised them as officers Saucedo and Burns from the Lomita sheriff station.

"Captain Stanley," Saucedo called.

The captain stuffed his handie-talkie in his fire-jacket and walked up to the officers. "Hey."

"We'd like a statement from the owner of the property," Burns said. He took off his aviators to squint at the scene, rubbing his dark moustache as he mulled over the situation.

"Gage, DeSoto," Captain Stanley called. "Where is Mrs. Humphries?"

The paramedics walked up too, looking around as they did.

Johnny scratched his head. "The lady of the house? She wandered down to the neighbours to make a call to her husband."

Officer Saucedo nodded to Burns.

"I'll go get her statement," Burns said. He put his sunglasses back on as he walked back to the car.

"This look like arson to you?" Saucedo asked Captain Stanley.

Stanley shrugged. "We won't know that for sure until the investigators get here. Since the fire is pretty much contained, I already called them up. They should be here soon. Mrs. Humphries sure described what sounded like arson to me."

Johnny gulped as he recalled Cap's statement from earlier that morning.

_"The Battalion Chief wants us all to be on high alert just in case this wasn't an isolated incident and there's some lunatic going around."_

Was it possible that this incident could be related to the apartment fire last Thursday? The logical part of Johnny's mind wanted to believe that it was nothing more than coincidence. But then again, how many arsonists could there possibly be in a five mile radius? A majority of the fires he personally saw were accidents, and the ones that were deemed arson were usually some moron burning down a structure to collect insurance money. But some freak driving up in a pick-up and chucking a flaming object onto someone's porch? That was a malicious act that Johnny knew didn't happen every day.

* * *

><p>Just as the last bit of smoke on the house was being doused, the County Fire Investigators arrived at the scene. They pulled up in a bright red Fire Department Gran Torino, and parked just behind the sheriffs' vehicle. They stepped out of the car—four of them—wearing helmets branded with the emblem of Battalion 14.<p>

The senior investigator—Johnny could tell he was the senior investigator because of the way he carried himself—walked up to Captain Stanley, the paramedics, and the two sheriff's deputies. He was a lanky man with a perfect moustache and when he took off his helmet, he displayed an impeccably kept head of blond hair.

"You must be Captain Hank Stanley," the investigator said, speaking with a clipped, obviously British accent. "I'm Nigel Cunningham, chief fire investigator of Battalion 14."

"A pleasure to meet you," Cap replied, shaking Cunningham's hand with a broad smile.

"The fire is all out, it seems," Cunningham observed curtly as he walked across the lawn and up to the house. Captain Stanley and the sheriff's deputies accompanied him, and Johnny and Roy followed out of curiosity. Marco and Chet, after putting all the length of hose away, joined the two paramedics.

After looking the scene over, Cunningham turned to face officer Saucedo and Officer Burns. "The woman who lives here said someone threw a flaming object onto her porch?" he questioned, his stern expression deepening. It occurred to Johnny that this was a man who didn't know how to smile.

The sheriff's deputies hesitated to answer, regarding one and other furtively through their aviators.

"That's what we heard," Chet suddenly spoke up for them, receiving and immediate look of disapproval from Nigel Cunningham.

"I was not talking to you," the chief fire investigator said.

Chet frowned, sinking back between Roy and Marco.

"The woman—" Officer Burns cleared his throat "—told me in her statement that a black pick-up, probably a Chevy, pulled up her driveway, threw a flaming object at her porch, and then quickly backed up and sped away. I've already put out an APB on the vehicle."

"Interesting." Cunningham raised a brow, putting thick gloves on. Carefully, he walked onto what was left of the front porch and began sifting through debris.

The men of 51 watched him curiously as he went about his business. Eventually, he called the three junior investigators over and they helped him to rummage.

"Aha!"

The apparent announcement that Cunningham had found something sent a tangible ripple of excitement through all the on-looking firemen.

Cunningham stood from where he had been previously crouched. In his hand he held up the shattered neck of a beer bottle. The glass was still intact despite the burn stains covering it. Cunningham sniffed the glass and then nodded.

"Molotov cocktail, anyone?" he asked.

And it was the first time Johnny saw this man smile.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Since it's never stated canonically where Johnny grew up or what Native American tribe he belongs to, I have supplied Oklahoma as his state of origin and the Seminole Nation as his tribe (since Randolph Mantooth is half-Seminole it made sense to me). I see other authors have supplied Montana. I didn't want to copy anyone ;)_

**CHAPTER SEVEN!**

**Redondo Beach, CA**

AFTER his shift had ended that afternoon, Johnny immediately made his way to his brother's house in Redondo Beach. He hoped to ask his niece about the babysitting before Friday since he'd have no other time once his forty-eight hour shift began tomorrow. Besides, it had been a few months since he'd visited his brother's family, and he thought seeing them would do him good.

Other than his eccentric aunt who lived over in Riverside, Johnny's brother was really the only family member he had stayed in touch with. The rest of them lived half-the-continent away on Seminole lands in Oklahoma, and Johnny tried his best to not remember growing up there. The minute he had turned fifteen, he'd decided to leave Oklahoma to live with his older brother, Billy, in California. It disappointed his parents that he wanted to leave, but they allowed it because they knew it would make him happier. All Johnny wanted was to attend a nice high school and start a career. His parents knew just as well as he did that living on the poverty-stricken reservation wasn't going to give him the life he wanted.

Moving in with Billy and his family was the best decision Johnny'd made in his life besides enlisting in the paramedic programme. Johnny knew he had a lot to thank his elder brother for. Taking time out of his busy life to visit Billy was certainly necessary.

Billy's house was right on the beach, and though it was quaint as beach houses are apt to be, Johnny shuddered to see it because he constantly imagined how ridiculously over-priced its mortgage rate was. Johnny parallel parked his four-by-four along the narrow street, sandwiching it between the neighbour's Camaro and his sister-in-law's Volkswagen bus. Then he got out and stepped onto the sidewalk. Here the air was fresh and filled with the crisp smell of the Pacific. It reminded Johnny of how much he hated to get used to the air in Carson, saturated with the stench of oil refineries. He took a long, deep breath before he strode up the gravel walkway that was lined on both sides with bright purple sea figs.

When he knocked at the door, his sister-in-law promptly answered. Cecelia Gage was half Lakota Sioux, half Italian, and one hundred percent hippie. Graduate of Berkeley, professor of anthropology at USC, and always smelling of patchouli incense. When she saw Johnny, the stout woman smiled radiantly and pulled him down into a tight hug.

"Johnny, it's so great to see you!"

Johnny hugged her back. "I thought I'd stop by for a bit and say hello to everyone."

"Come in, come in!" Cecelia ushered him inside the house, closing the door behind him. Over in the living room, Billy sat hunched over a type-writer, pecking away rapidly at the keys. Ever since quitting his job at the _LA Times, _Billy had worked from home as a pretty successful free-lance journalist.

"Billy," Cecelia called. "Johnny is here."

Billy stopped his typing and looked up over his reading glasses. He smirked, the same crooked grin his little brother had, and got up from his seat. "Johnny," he said, taking off his glasses and setting them on the desk. "How are you?"

The two brothers met in a hug at the centre of the living room.

"I'm great," Johnny replied. Although "great" was an overstatement. He had felt off the entire day, ever since the rescue of Dana Caldwell. Not to mention the whole issue with the possible serial arsonist running loose.

"How're things going at the fire station?" Billy took a seat at the couch and Johnny joined him.

"Never a dull moment, that's for sure," Johnny said. "It's been really busy lately."

"Would the two of you like a cup of tea?" Cecelia asked, lingering by the entrance to the kitchen.

Johnny nodded. "Sure, that'd be great." He looked back to his brother. "What about you? How's your writing been goin'?"

"Well..."

Billy then went into a lengthy narrative about how he was getting into investigative journalism and how he was thinking about writing an exposé on local oil companies and their effects on the ecology. Half-way through Billy's oration, Cecelia returned with a hot cup of green tea for Johnny. It was the kind of whole-leaf stuff they had at Chinese restaurants. Just one sip of it made you feel better, like it had magical healing powers. Johnny wanted to ask Cecelia where she bought it because it was really helping reverse his negative feelings about the day, but didn't want to interrupt Billy's interesting story.

After Billy had finished talking, they somehow brought the subject back to Johnny and he began talking about some of the recent things going on at the station. He specifically tip-toed around mentioning the possible arsonist, however. They talked for about thirty minutes straight, until Johnny remembered the primary reason he had stopped by.

"I forgot to ask if CeCe is home," he mentioned. "I needed to ask her something."

"Oh, yeah." Billy gestured to the staircase. "She's up in her room finishing her homework. What did you need to ask her about?"

"I might have a babysitting job for her. I remember last time I saw her, she said she was looking around for work to do."

Cecelia smiled. "She'll be glad to know you might've found something for her."

Johnny got up from the couch, setting his empty tea cup on the coffee table. "I'll go talk to her about it, then. And thanks for the tea."

CeCe's room was upstairs, and before Johnny reached it, he could already hear the astral sounds of Pink Floyd's "Have a Cigar" emanating from the closed door. The door, incidentally, was decorated with a fall-out shelter sign and a DO NOT ENTER sign. Johnny knocked loudly, hoping she'd be able to hear over her music.

"Who is it?" she demanded in a shrill voice.

"CeCe, It's your Uncle Johnny."

"Oh! Come on in!"

Johnny opened the door, fought his way through a curtain of wooden beads, and found himself in his niece's dimly lit pad. The walls were covered with posters of every great rockstar and band from the current and past decade. Over in the corner, the Jefferson Airplane hung out next to Led Zeppelin. The Beatles in their _Let It Be _era occupied a space by the window. Above the bed was the Who, a large red heart painted around Pete Townshend's face. And those were only the bands that Johnny could recognise in the dull light given off by CeCe's three lava lamps spread throughout the room. The only amount of substantial illumination came from the reading lamp positioned on the night-stand, and even that was negligible.

His niece jumped up from her bed upon his entry to give him a tight hug. Glancing over her shoulder as he hugged her he could see that her "homework" was a copy of the latest _Rolling Stone _magazine. Her neglected math book rested at the foot of the bed with a half written on paper shoved between its pages.

After hugging him, CeCe quickly leaned over to her nightstand to turn down the volume on her turntable, and then turned back to him. "Whatcha doin' here, Uncle Johnny?" she asked. "It's been a while since you stopped by. Everything okay at the station?" She sat back down on her bed, cross-legged, waiting for him to respond.

"Oh, everything's fine," Johnny replied as he sank back down into the giant bean-bag chair in the corner. "I just wanted to tell ya that I might've found a babysitting job for ya."

CeCe smiled, and it was that crooked Gage-smile too. "Sweet! When and where?"

"Friday from six-ish to midnight-ish, in Torrance. See, my partner and his wife are probably gonna go out dancin' with me and my girlfriend, and they need somebody to watch their two kids."

CeCe narrowed her eyes. "How old?"

"Chris is eight and Jenny is five."

She considered this for a moment. "That works, I guess. Just let your friend know I charge by the hour. Two-fifty."

Johnny blinked. "Two-fifty? That's more than minimum wage. Ceece, it's babysitting...and I told Roy your services were reasonably priced."

"Uncle Johnny." She rolled her eyes and then continued. "It's _more _than reasonable. C'mon—it really takes more talent to look after someone's children than it does to flip burgers at McDonald's. I should get paid more than minimum wage in my opinion. Besides, unless your friend is as cheap as you are, he'll totally agree to it."

Johnny frowned. "You think I'm cheap?"

"Did I say that?"

"I think you did. You think you old Uncle Johnny is cheap."

CeCe threw herself back on her bed and chuckled. "Okay! I'll make you a deal then. Two dollars even if you do me a favour."

"A favour?"

She leaned back up. "Yeah. I kinda see this as a favour, so if you pay me back in kind, I'll give your friend a discount."

Johnny rubbed his chin, regarding his niece in suspicion. "I'm listening."

"Okay, so basically I've been distraught this whole year over one major thing. Do you know how many amazing bands have been at the Forum this past summer? Zeppelin. The Stones. And I didn't get to go to a single concert because Mom says I'm 'too young.'" CeCe rolled her eyes again. "But we all know in February I'll be turning fifteen, so I asked her if things will change then. And she said to me that I could go to a concert as long as someone she knew went with me and they were over twenty-one.

"I got to thinking," she went on, "that Uncle Johnny is pretty cool and he's over twenty-one. Then I heard that the Who are going to be playing Angel Stadium this coming March, and I just _have _to go! So the way you're going to repay me is by taking me to see them."

Johnny shrugged. "The Who are pretty cool. And I wouldn't mind seein' them, so I guess you have a deal."

"Really?" CeCe squeaked. "Oh, thank you, Uncle Johnny! You totally rock—you don't even know! I mean, I'll pay for my own ticket and all that, but to have someone to go with me?—Yay!" She turned and considered her Who poster for a long, adoring moment. "Now I finally get to see Pete in person. He's so lovely..."

_And most girls her age are crushing on David Cassidy, _Johnny thought in amusement as he pulled himself out of the bean-bag chair.

"Your friend will not be disappointed." CeCe turned back to Johnny. "His kids are gonna love me." She got up from the bed and gave her uncle another big hug. "Thanks again."

"You're welcome." Johnny eyed her book at the foot of her bed. "And finish your math homework."

She looked at him like her was being ridiculous. "Okay. See ya later, Uncle Johnny."

"See ya later." And he left the room.

Downstairs, Cecelia met him as he walked into the living room. "Hey, Johnny," she said. "Would you like to stay for tacos?"

The mention of food reminded him that he had a dinner date with Barbara tonight and that he should look at the time. "Sorry, I wish I could. But I gotta get out of here. I have a date that..." he glanced at his watch. 5:30. _Shoot. _"...I'm actually late for."

"Leaving already, Johnny?" Billy asked as he turned away from his typewriter.

"Yeah." Johnny hugged Cecelia and then went over to give his brother a hug. "Sorry guys. I'll see ya soon, though, okay?"

"Bye, Johnny," Cecelia said. "Drive safe."


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Chapter includes character Valerie from the fourth season episode "Details"_

**CH****APTER EIGHT!**

**Redondo Beach Pier**

BARBARA was pissed. Johnny could already tell that from several feet away as he hurriedly walked towards her. First of all, she hadn't been too keen on meeting him for dinner—she would have rather been picked up—and secondly, he was fifteen minutes late. With each step he hoped she'd get over it once they were inside the restaurant.

She was waiting out in front of Tony's Sea Food with her arms crossed over her Halston dress that she was probably freezing in. While the October days were still hot, nighttime—especially right on the beach—was a different story. Noticing him, Barbara's expression descended into a momentary frown.

Johnny gave her a chagrined smile. "I'm sorry I'm late..."

Barbara said nothing, taking the time to run her fingers through her dark blonde hair. Then she finally spoke, her voice low and flat. "Did you call in a reservation? The wait is pretty long."

"Reservations?" _Shit! _How could he forget to call in a reservation? _Of all the stupid things..._

"You forgot, didn't you?"

Johnny rubbed his forehead. "Yeah. I'm sorry. I meant to do it when I got off my shift, but I was so distracted. Today was very busy."

Barbara looked away from him, her green eyes lividly focusing on the shops across the pier from where they stood. "It's fine. We'll wait."

"Are you sure?" Johnny tentatively rested his hand on her arm. "We could always head over to Zeppy's Pizza if you—"

"I said it's _fine."_

"You're sure?"

"Johnny, you know how much I hate that stupid pizza place..."

Johnny took his hand back to himself. "Okay. We'll wait. I'll—um—go see if I can get our name on the list..." He left her side to wander over to the hostess standing at a podium by the front entrance. The entire time he wondered how it was even possible for someone to hate Zeppy's Pizza.

"Hi," Johnny said to the hostess. "About how long is the wait?"

She gave him an apologetic look. "Right now it's about thirty minutes."

"That's awright. You can put me down on the list."

"Okay. Your name and how many in your party?"

"Johnny...and two."

The hostess wrote down his information, looking back up to him once she was done. "Thanks. I'll call you when you're up."

Johnny thanked her again and then walked back to Barbara, explaining to her that the wait was only thirty minutes. She didn't respond to him, walking over to sit on a nearby bench. Johnny sat next to her and Barbara closed herself to him, refusing to talk or make eye contact.

_Well, this is gonna be real fun, _Johnny thought. He began to wonder if she was manic depressive or something. At Jake Mercer's get-together in Palos Verdes she had been the life of the party. And now she was simply being an all-around kill-joy. Johnny just couldn't understand it one bit. She hadn't acted this way the last time they tried dating—why start now?

He contemplated asking her if there was something wrong other than the fact that he'd been late and had forgotten to call in a reservation. But he ended up deciding against that. He knew bugging her would only make her angrier than she already was.

For the rest of the thirty minute wait, they sat there in silence.

When Johnny's name was finally called, the hostess led them inside the restaurant, finding them a place on the upper level. It was a candle-lit table for two near a large window overlooking the ocean. _How nice, _Johnny thought. Now, if only Barbara would think so too.

They both sat, Barbara finally smiling at him. A half-smile, but a smile nonetheless. "I'm sorry I got so mad at you, Johnny," she said.

"That's awright." He smiled back. "I kinda deserved it."

Barbara picked up a menu and looked it over. "How did things go at the station today?" she asked while she glanced through the pages.

Johnny picked up his menu too. "It was just plain crazy. First thing in the morning we get called to a possible heart attack. But as it turns out it wasn't even a heart attack at all—just a nervous old man hyperventilating. Then we got called to an apartment complex where this poor woman was nearly beaten to death." Johnny swallowed hard. "Domestic violence...that rescue just about ruined my whole day. And _then _we got called to fire up in PV. No major injuries there, but I'm pretty sure whoever started that one started last week's apartment fire."

Barbara glanced at him over her menu. "An arsonist or something?"

"Well, I dunno for sure. I wudn't there to see the arson investigator's analysis of the first fire...but I just got a funny feelin' about both the scenes. You know—like a gut feelin'?"

"Yeah..."

"Oh!" Johnny exclaimed as he realised he could change the subject. Talking about it was beginning to make him uncomfortable. "I talked to Roy about going out dancin'."

"What did he say?" Barbara smiled, this time a real one.

"Said he was gonna talk to his wife, and if she wants to go then we're on."

"Sounds like fun." She lowered her eyes back to the menu. "I'm thinking about the shrimp scampi. What about you?"

A large smile cracked across Johnny's face. "Fish n' chips."

Soon after their brief spurt of conversation, their waiter came to take their order. While waiting for their food they had a glass of wine and chatted about Barbara's day. She talked about the flight to and from Seattle that she worked and said she'd never seen so many screaming babies on one airplane before. Then she talked about the next flight she worked to Las Vegas. "I hate that stupid airport," she said. "It smells like a big, fat cigarette. And everywhere you look there's a slot machine. Slot machines...in the _airport! _Can you believe it?" And Johnny could believe it. He'd only ever driven to Vegas—flying there seemed like a waste of time—but considering there were slot machines even at the gas stations, he could imagine they'd be at the airport too.

Then the food came and they were silent for a while as they ate.

"Johnny Gage?" a surprised female voice asked in the middle of their meal.

Johnny, chewing a large bite of fish, turned in his seat to see who it was. Before him stood Valerie—the ex-girlfriend he'd tried the hardest to forget. _What the heck is _she _doing here?_

He swallowed his food, nearly choking on it. "V-Valerie?" He cleared his throat. "Um—hi."

Valerie smiled sweetly. She looked so normal on the surface, but underneath—she was completely pathological. Her grubby youngest child clung to her hand, sucking a thumb. The other two terrors were nowhere to be seen. Of course, it wasn't the fact that she had children that disturbed Johnny when they dated a year and a half ago. Johnny had nothing against children (more or less). It was the fact that she had forgotten to mention to him that she _had _children in the first place. And they weren't even normal children—all three were well on their way to being just as crazy as their mother.

"It's so wonderful to see you," Valerie said. "How have you been?"

Johnny loosened his tie a little bit. It was getting hard to breath, and that smile of hers was driving him nuts. "Oh...I've been great...just fine...and you?"

"I've been wonderful."

Barbara cleared her throat and Johnny looked across the table to her. She had an annoyed look on her face and he realised she was giving him some kind of cue.

"Oh...Oh, yes!" he blurted. "Valerie, this is Barbara Reynolds. Barb, this is Valerie Hunter, an...old friend of mine..."

"Valerie Mitchell, now—actually." She flashed a giant diamond wedding ring.

Johnny gulped. "Congratulations." _Poor guy..._and he wondered if it was the unfortunate attorney she'd gotten her claws into after dumping him to the curb.

"Nice to meet you," Valerie said to Barbara. "I love your dress. It's very pretty."

"Thank you." Barbara smiled and Valerie smiled back, though Johnny was sure neither of them was being sincere to the other. He figured that was how women worked. They complimented each other, but didn't really mean a single word. It was all just for show, and what they really thought could be seen in their eyes.

"Barbara, huh?" Valerie went on after staring her down. "You're the stewardess, aren't you? Pacific Southwest?"

"Yeah, how did you know that?" Barb asked with a little frown. Johnny wondered this too, until he recalled that he had broken up with Barbara in order to go out with Valerie.

"Johnny told me about you," Valerie went on, her plastic smile never once leaving her face.

Barbara looked at Johnny pointedly. "Oh, really?"

Valerie seemed to shrug a little. "I really better be on my way now." She looked down at her thumb-sucking toddler. "I was just taking this one to the restroom. It was wonderful to see you, Johnny. Take care!" Then she walked off, dragging her child along.

Johnny looked down at his food and suddenly it didn't look tasty anymore.

"What the hell was that all about?" Barbara asked, leaning in to scowl at him.

He glanced up at her, pursing his lips. "Nothing..."

"That was _not '_nothing'. How does that chick know who I am? Is she like some ex of yours, or something?"

"I went out with her a while ago, okay. No big deal. It was right after you and I broke up so I guess I mentioned you to her...That's it."

"You mean when _you _broke up with _me. _Is _that _why? Because of her? You dumped me for her?"

"It was almost two years ago. You and I made up; it's all good, what does it matter?" He looked over, noticing that an older couple a few tables over was gawking at them. "Now, can we drop this, please?"

But Barb wasn't dropping it. She just went on, louder than before. "You fed me some crap about needing a break from dating, but the whole time it was just a lie so you could go out with _her?"_

Johnny placed his head in his hands. He couldn't believe this was happening. "C'mon, Barb—you're being ridiculous."

"Ridiculous?" Barbara stood up from her seat. She chucked her napkin at him. "I'll show you ridiculous!" she yelled. "I don't even know why I started going out with you again. You are a pompous ass!" She snatched up her purse, and then flung around to leave.

"Barbara!"

He thought about going after her, but she was already halfway across the dining hall. It wasn't any use, anyway. He knew he had completely blown it. Johnny sat back miserably in his chair, raising a hand to wave down the waiter.

"Check, please..."

* * *

><p>Johnny drove along Palos Verdes Drive to clear his mind before going home.<p>

The languid stretch of road wound up through the hills and right along the ocean. To his left, the sun was gone on the sea and most of what remained was a purplish glow against the darkness of the rest of the sky. There were no stars to speak of because the light pollution blotted them all out, but Johnny liked to imagine they were still out there somewhere.

He remembered when he was a boy and he and his grandfather used to go out on the plains to look at them. Out in the middle of nowhere there were no big cities like Los Angeles to block out the stars' light and millions of them could be seen. The earth was flat and the sky went on forever it seemed. It used to make Johnny feel extremely small. His grandfather would tell him stories about how the Milky Way is a path straight to Heaven, and though he still felt small, it made him feel a little bit better. It was one of the things he actually missed about Oklahoma, but it was long ago and he knew he'd never get that time back.

Johnny sighed. He was driving really slow, but was too deep in thought to even notice cars passing the double-yellow line just to get around him. They flew past, gawking at him or making obscene gestures, but Johnny's attention was on the Point Vicente Lighthouse up ahead. It sat perched on the point, shadowy palms surrounding it. Its beacon shone brightly, and every time it made its cycle, Johnny could see the blurry smudge on the glass that urban legend told was the ghost of a woman.

The lighthouse was Barbara's favourite place Johnny remembered as he finally passed it. So much for trying to take a ride to get her off his mind. _I should have gone after her back at Tony's, _he thought, and he wanted to kick himself because he didn't. Now he knew it was too late. It was too late to call her, it was too late to beg, and it was too late to make amends. Now he had to tell Roy that he couldn't go dancing on Friday either.

_What a terrible start to the week._

Johnny reached San Pedro eventually, finding his way to the 110 so he could get back to Carson. All the lights on the freeway blurred his senses, and he fought against sleep until he finally reached his apartment. Once inside, he chain-locked his door and bolted it.

Once again, he was alone.


End file.
